Harry Potter and the Obnoxious Creeps
by Ashliebelle
Summary: The summer before Harry's 5th year, he discovers many unusual things causing a disturbance in the Dark Lord's plans, making himself a target once more. With the help of Mrs. Figg, can Harry escape again? (Fic written pre OotP) A Finished Story
1. Strawberries and Emails

I held my breath as I tiptoed past the shut door that emitted loud, pig-like snores. I felt exactly like Indiana Jones, avoiding the floorboards that would creak and thus set the enormous rolling entity of my uncle down the hallway towards me. I glanced behind me to make sure the nosy neighbors weren't looking from their house to our hall window again, but then remembered that it was 3 am and if they were awake and snooping at that hour they deserved to see a tall, skinny, 15 year-old boy carefully choosing his footing down the hallway.  
  
There were so many boards that creaked in the old hall, but so many years of sneaking around at night conditioned me very well; I was sure I could get all the way downstairs with my eyes shut. Well, maybe not all the way... but I could use the Animadverto charm I just learned on myself, which would let a person see through their closed eyelids.  
  
I got to the end of the hallway and down the flight of stairs without one creak, so I rewarded myself with some strawberry ice cream. "For a job well done," I muttered and scooped out chunks of strawberry from the carton into a bowl. I placed the ice cream back in the freezer and walked to the study. I settled myself in Dudley's new computer chair; he got stuck in his old one. He must have sat in that old chair all day, eating everything he could because when he got up to go to the bathroom, he couldn't.  
  
So, the new chair ended up being almost bigger than the desk the computer sat on. I flipped the power switch and it whirred to life. I glanced nervously up the stairs, half-expecting to hear Vernon's voice booming towards me.  
  
"You've got mail!" the computer proclaims. I smile joyously, and click on my mailbox. "She wrote back!" I exclaimed quietly as a reply to my message appeared. I clicked on it, but disappointment clutched my chest.  
  
"Your e-mail is being returned to you because there was a problem with its delivery. It is unknown if your message has reached the recipient..."  
  
Bitterly, I said a word I know Hermione would probably scold me for using. How was I supposed to know if she got the e-mail or not? I threw my spoon into the empty ice cream bowl angrily. Unfortunately, this created a bit more noise than I hoped... okay, it created a bit more noise than anyone this side of the ocean would have hoped. The bowl fell to the ground and broke its crown and the spoon came tumbling after, like some kind of ironic, noisy nursery rhyme. 


	2. Back to the Cupboard

Chapter 2  
  
I thought I was used to Vernon's screaming, but the onslaught I experienced after the computer incident was comparable to an earthquake. I could almost imagine the television reports with a bird's eye view of what once was 4 Privet Drive, with a little picture of my red-faced uncle in the middle.  
I'd grown a lot that summer, but I was still no match for Vernon, who is often mistaken for a rhinoceros. I don't let him bully me around like he used to, but that night was a different story. I didn't even have a chance to fight back, when he severely threw me into the cupboard. The last thing I remembered before gaining consciousness was the loud crack when my head hit the top of the doorway. I rubbed my head where it hit, and checked to make sure it wasn't bleeding. I was really too tall to fit in the cupboard anymore; it had been a long time since I'd been here.  
I sighed, and attempted to get more comfortable in the too-small space I used to sleep in. Being in here brought back bad memories, memories of a childhood spent in physical and emotional darkness, memories I hoped I would forget once I started school at Hogwarts.  
Hogwarts... I missed it so much. Absence makes the heart grow fonder; nothing is truer than that. My thoughts began to dwell on... her. Why didn't her email work?! No wonder wizards use owls instead, computers are so... unpredictable. I wish I could have sent her an owl, but she said she was visiting her muggle relatives who probably like to introduce owls to swinging frying pans.  
No, they wouldn't be huge fans of Hedwig. She was expecting a message, and I didn't know if she'd gotten it or not. She sent me an unexpected owl before she left for her cousin's, and at the end was her email address.  
As I sat and thought about it, I wondered if she didn't just make it all up. Maybe she knew it wouldn't' work. Maybe this is all a big joke and she's laughing it up with her stupid giggly friends.  
Sigh. My head throbbed blindly, and I felt a tender knot forming. I hated my uncle. I refused to call him "Uncle Vernon" anymore; he wasn't my authority figure anymore. If Dumbledore hadn't told me that there was magic protecting me from Voldemort at Privet Drive, I definitely would have run away by then. 


	3. Mowing the Lawn

Chapter 3  
  
I sat in the dark cupboard for quite some time. I nursed my cut arm, which I hadn't noticed over the pain in my head. The worst thing about being in the cupboard was when Dudley would stand right next to it. Not only did he eat food right there while I was starving, but he periodically emitted foul odors and wafted them into the little room for my enjoyment.  
15 year-olds shouldn't be allowed to be humiliated like this. If I fought to get out of the cupboard, Dudley would have just stood there and laughed at me with crumbs of cake spurting from his fat lips. The alternative to fighting, though, was pretending not to exist, a pathetic pastime I seemed to keep returning to every year.  
Petunia finally let me out of the cupboard in the late afternoon, and made me cut the grass. I took the opportunity to perform one of my favorite tricks the Dursley's had absolutely no clue about...  
I started the motor and began cutting. I cut about a fifth of the yard, then pushed the mower to the side of the house. I left the motor running, and sneaked to the front door. I took off my shoes and threw them into the bushes so I wouldn't track in any dirt (not to please Petunia... I just didn't want to leave a trail).  
The door creaked in protest as I opened it slowly. The motor of the mower drowned out some of the noise I made, but I was still deathly quiet as I went up the stairs. Petunia was humming some god-awful tune out of key while she prepared something smelled like troll socks, but it turned out to be dinner. For once, I was glad they didn't feed me.  
I made it to my room without Dudley seeing me through his open door. I heaved my closet door open and rummaged through some papers. Where was it?! I would have to find that letter! I had to make sure she got my message and I needed her address...  
I found the envelope, but no letter. I sat down on my heels and sighed, listening to the carefree birds singing a soft song just outside the window... wait a minute... the mower stopped!!  
I started toward the door but it was too late. Petunia's shrill voice echoed through the yard. Oh please let her just stay inside! I bounded down the stairs, and noisily sped out the front door. I put on a burst of speed, and reached the mower just as Petunia rounded the corner of the house from the backyard.  
My lungs burned for air, but I attempted to breathe normally and look calm. My head pounded where the knot had grown as Petunia glared into my eyes. `I hope she doesn't notice that I'm not wearing any shoes...'  
"Where are your shoes, boy?"  
Crap... "I took them off, because... it's hot out here."  
"And you know," I added spitefully, "It's easy to get dehydrated when I haven't had anything to EAT all day. I might faint. You wouldn't want the neighbors seeing THAT."  
A look of panic spread across Petunia's face. She knew the neighbors were as nosy as she was. If word got out that her strange nephew collapsed right in the middle of the yard, it would fuel the gossip for a long time...  
"Get inside and eat some bread!" she spat.  
I smirked at her pointedly as I walked into the cool kitchen from the hot summer afternoon. I ate my food slowly, prolonging my time indoors. Petunia glared at me the entire time, but it was only a small price to pay. I was in the air-conditioned kitchen, I could bear her wrinkly glare for hours. I smiled inwardly as I chewed my bread. I could still win the little battles... 


	4. Dudley the Elephant

Chapter 4  
  
After I finished the lawn (Petunia watching my every move from the kitchen window), I walked sleepily upstairs. I hadn't slept at all the night before in the stuffy, cramped cupboard. My vision was blurred as I tried to keep my tired eyes open long enough to see the way to my bed. The journey from the stairs to my room proved to be more difficult than I thought it would.  
  
I once saw a TV program that showed people climbing Mount Everest, who were knee-deep in snow, and dizzy from lack of oxygen. I saw myself as one of them, taking deep breaths, but gaining little oxygen; picking one foot up just to put it inches in front of where it was before. I was almost at the top of the mountain; I could see flags of people who had been there before. Using my last ounce of energy, I got to the summit and took out my own flag to place there. I was just about to plunge the long pole into the snow, when I saw a tinge of color just beneath the ice. I dusted off some snow to reveal a pale, dead face. I screamed as loudly as I could, but I no sound reached my ears over the howling wind. The face belonged to Cedric Diggory, his eyes were frozen open, deeply staring into nothing. The howling wind abruptly turned into a high-pitched cackle, and everything around me turned green...  
I woke up, breathing hard in my bed. How did I get here? I must have managed to get here before I fell all the way asleep. A large lump formed in the depths of my throat, and I couldn't swallow it away. Everything was just too much to take. I felt so bad for Cedric's family, I missed Hogwarts, I wanted to talk to... her. Before I let my emotions overcome, Dudley decided to walk through my open door, a task that had become difficult for him because most doorways were too small. Petunia said he was going to have a growth spurt, but unless she meant a horizontal spurt, she was just kidding herself. Dudly wore a nasty grin as he stepped into my room.  
"So how was the cupboard?" he asked maliciously, spitting bits of food everywhere.  
"The cupboard? Oh it was quite cozy, unlike you when you try to fit into the back of a car," I answered. His oily smile disappeared, and his eyes became narrow. He reminded me of an angry elephant, `and is probably just as dangerous,' I reminded myself. He stared at me, and then looked just to the right of me to my desk. He wobbled to the desk, and before I realized what he was going after, he grabbed a piece of pale yellow paper. The letter... It was sitting right in the open, how could I have missed it?! Dudley read it, and smiled again. I ran to grab it from his hand, but he held it out of reach; his belly was too big, I couldn't get near it.  
"Give it here!" I demanded, trying to sound as threatening as possible. He punched me hard in the ribs, and I fell back on my bed, gasping for air.  
"Dear Harry," He began. I couldn't move, it felt like all my ribs had snapped. "I'm really going to miss you over the summer." Dudley stopped, and looked at me, smiling. "Oh, so you've got a freak girlfriend from that freak school," he chuckled. I don't know why he was so happy, his girlfriend was excessively ugly, and probably only went out with him because he threatened to kiss her if she didn't.  
"I'm going to my cousin's house," Dudley continued in a high-pitched, mocking voice, "and I would really like to hear from you." He frowned and skipped the part about her cousins being muggles and not to send an owl, probably because he didn't know what that meant. His disgusting smile returned "You can reach me by email, though. Talk to you then, LOVE Cho." I glared at him threateningly as the pain subsided in my ribcage. He added the "love" part himself. Dudley stopped and gasped in mock surprise. "Oh look!" he said in his normal voice, "an email address!" I got up and tried to get the letter again. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, and threw me to the ground like a rag doll. Dudley pocketed the note, kicked me in the back while I was on the ground, and left my room, chuckling. I stayed on the floor for a minute, trying to suppress the pain shooting from my back to my limbs. But the pain wasn't as bad as my need for the note. I had to get that letter back! 


	5. Away from the Dursleys

Chapter 5  
  
All evening I tried to think of what to do about the letter, but I was too tired to think straight. My head felt like someone had inserted a spoon in my left ear and swished everything around for a while. The warm evening air blew into my open window. I inhaled deeply; it smelled like the familiar smell right before a storm.  
"Get down here, boy!" shouted Vernon from the kitchen. I slouched into my chair, and propped my feet on an empty box. It was pure teenage defiance. "Get down here NOW!" I didn't feel particularly in the mood for being yelled at, so I closed my door, and moved my desk in front of it to keep out the unwanted visitors. Vernon's voice was muffled slightly by the closed door, but I heard the footsteps clear as day as he marched up the stairs.  
He tried to force my door open, but succeeded in doing so only a few centimeters. "What is this nonsense about a letter!?" Vernon yelled, "You know the rules, no contact with ANYONE from your... 'school' unless I know about it first!" I smirked as he tried to open the door again. "Those are YOUR rules," I replied, "not mine." These words seemed to pierce into Vernon's mind, because he let out a raging howl, and ran headlong into the door. The door was broken straight off its hinges, and my fat uncle tumbled over the desk and into the room. I laughed loudly at his attempts to stand back up, it was like seeing a walrus trying to stand upright. When he finally did, I regretted talking back and laughing at him. In his right fist he held my crumpled letter, and he looked close to ripping it apart.  
"Give me my letter!" I demanded, remembering the same situation 4 years earlier when my first Hogwarts letter came. Outside, it began to pour rain and lightning broke through the sky.  
"It was sent to my house, therefore it's MY letter," Vernon said. "I swear, I'm going to wallop you good for this one, boy!" he threatened. I didn't doubt that for a second, and I tried to keep my tiny amount of nervousness away from my face... he's like a wild beast that could smell fear. I backed away from him, it seemed like he was growing quickly in the small room. Dudley appeared in the doorway, to watch us like a circus show. Vernon raised his left arm to swing at me, but I was faster, and I grabbed the letter from his stationary right hand, and ran toward the window. Without thinking, I sat on the windowsill, swung my legs out, and pushed myself into the onslaught of rain.  
My window was a lot further from the ground than I expected, but the soil was saturated, making my fall less painful. Mud splattered my glasses, and I rubbed them with dirty fingers, attempting to see out of them. I ran out of the backyard and into the front. I could hear Vernon's growls from the front sidewalk. I sprinted away from 4 Privet Drive as fast as my bruised legs would carry me.  
  
I didn't think about my school supplies, Hedwig, or what Dumbledore had said to me before I came home for the summer. I shouldn't be expected to live there any more. My legs pumped painfully to the end of Privet Drive. Then, from out of the blinding rain, a figure appeared, standing right in my way. As I got closer, I saw Mrs. Figg, my strange old neighbor. She held up her hand, signaling me to stop. The rain didn't seem to bother her at all. I was about to ignore her, and keep running, when she said loudly through the rain, "What would Dumbledore think of this, mister Harry Potter?" 


	6. Mrs Figg

Chapter 6  
  
I stood for a good full minute in the rain, absorbing what my old neighbor just said to me.  
"You're a... a witch!" I exclaimed, hardly believing what I was saying.  
"You might say that," Mrs. Figg smiled a bit. "Come on, let's get you someplace warm..." She reached out to my arm, but I jerked away from her gentle grasp.  
"I'm not going back!" I yelled without noticing the rain mixing with the tears on my face. "I'm never going back there!" As soon as I said that, I heard the front door to 4 Privet Drive slam and disembodied vocalizations cut through the downpour. I gasped and subconsciously stepped backwards in fear of my uncle's terrible yells. Mrs. Figg produced a wand, and calmly said "Pilosus vultus."  
A narrow streak of light wove its way smoothly through the rain like a ribbon. A shriek from Vernon confirmed the charm's success. I turned to say something to Mrs. Figg, but she had her back turned; she was walking towards her house. I jogged to catch up, still listening the dull screams of my uncle.  
"What spell was that?" I asked curiously as Mrs. Figg and I walk side-by-side through the storm, "I've never heard it before."  
"They don't teach it at school, for fear of students using it against each other," she answered, with a little twinkle in her eye. Now I'm really curious...  
We opened the door to her house, and about a half a dozen cats ran between our legs into the dry indoors. I stood shivering on the rug in the foyer, water dripping from my hair, clothes, and nose, while Mrs. Figg reached into the closet for a large blanket. She threw it around my drenched body, and led me into the kitchen.  
  
"Hairy face," Mrs. Figg said.  
"What?" I reached to my face, to make sure there wasn't any excessive hair. I had begun to shave during the summer, but my facial hair didn't grow that quickly.  
"No, not you," she chuckled, "that's what the charm does... Your uncle will look like a sheep dog before morning." I smiled inwardly imagining the hair growing rapidly from his cheeks and forehead. I would love to use that one on Malfoy, no doubt about that. Mrs. Figg served me hot tea, and it warmed me up from the inside. I still shivered in my wet clothes. Mrs. Figg noticed this as well.  
"I'll get you something to change into," she said, and disappeared down the hallway. I took the time to glance around the kitchen. I could hardly believe that a witch lived here; there was nothing to suggest that she even owned a magic wand, unlike Mrs. Weasley's kitchen, filled with magical cookbooks and utensils. I wondered why not. Mrs. Figg returned with some jeans and a large t-shirt.  
I expected her to leave the room to let me change, but instead she pulled the blanket off, and began to lift my saturated shirt over my head. I wasn't totally uncomfortable about this, because I had known her since I was young, but it was definitely awkward. Mrs. Figg's mood changed dramatically. She transformed from her cheerful and lighthearted mood, and her eyes turned sympathetic as she surveyed my upper body. All over were bruises and scratches. Some were fresh, like the bruise on my back from when Dudley kicked me, and some were greenish-yellow with age, like the ones on my arm from last week when Vernon grabbed it tightly. I usually didn't even notice when I got a bruise because I was used to it. I didn't eat as much as the normal kid and probably looked like a sick little puppy by then. I hastily put on the new, dry shirt, and looked away from Mrs. Figg's eyes, which began brimming with tears.  
"Oh, Harry," she whispered, "I didn't know it was that bad..." 


	7. Epotus Scribo

Chapter 7  
  
Mrs. Figg left the room sadly to let me change into my pants. I didn't know what to think about her; I was glad she was being so nice, but I didn't want her (or anybody) to pity me. In the dry clothes, I felt a lot more comfortable. I spotted a soggy piece of parchment on the table next to my wet clothes. I pulled it toward me; it left a wet trail behind on the wooden table. I gasped a little, recognizing the ink color from Cho's letter; I'd forgotten it was with me during my excursion through the rain... unfortunately the words bled together, and the ink pooled where her email address was, making it illegible. It's useless! I just wasn't meant to get hold of her. I shoved the letter away in disgust, resulting in an inky mess all over my fingers. I angrily strode to the sink, and washed my fingers. Mrs. Figg returned quietly, and noticed the paper doused in blue ink.  
"What is... or was this?" she asked curiously. I told her it was a letter from someone at school. "Well, that's too bad... You know, I might be able to get it back to normal..." Her eyes twinkled, obviously eager to do something to cheer me up.  
"How?" I asked, "It's ruined!" I threw myself hopelessly on one of the chairs. I'll never get Cho a response to her letter. Mrs. Figg pulled out her wand again and examined the note. "I can get this back to normal, or at least close to it."  
"How?" I repeated, a little less skeptical this time, sitting up in my seat.  
"Well," she began and I leaned closer, "you know how when you write something on paper, it will make an indentation wherever you write the words?" I nodded, and searched for any such indentations on Cho's letter. "They will be too difficult to see, since the paper is covered in ink," she said, "but there is a charm that will actually make the ink drain into those grooves, making it as good as new!" She smiled at me, and pushed up the sleeves on her sweater. She held her wand daintily and said, " epotus scribo."  
The ink began to swirl and move over the paper. It churned this way and looped that way like an intricate dance. Then, as the ink found the indentations, words began to magically appear. I saw the email address emerge from the parchment. Mrs. Figg was staring at me, so I looked up and smiled a thank-you. I looked at the note again, but gasped in surprise. "To Goyle," I saw, overlapping "Dear Harry." Mrs. Figg furrowed her brow in confusion.  
"That doesn't make sense," I said, "it's as if two letters were written on the same parchment..."  
"No," Mrs. Figg said, "it wasn't the same piece of paper, but another letter was obviously written on a different piece right on top of this one. It looks as if your friend wrote a different letter to a `Goyle' before writing to you." 


	8. Hedwig's Two Masters

Chapter 8  
  
Goyle? That blundering ape of a person!? How could she? I thought she liked me.  
Mrs. Figg looked worried; in fact, she looked far more disgruntled than I felt. She whipped out some reading glasses and squinted at the paper. There was no way that anyone would be able to comprehend either messages, they jumbled together in a mess of words. The only thing I could read from the new letter was "Goyle" in the introduction. I sighed in frustration and pushed the note away.  
"Could I keep this?" Mrs. Figg asked, picking up the paper. "Sure," I said, "it's not really important any more." Mrs. Figg folded it up, and placed it in her purse. In an obvious attempt to change the subject, she asked me about school, and what classes I was looking forward to this year.  
I looked at her and said, "You're a witch."  
"Yes, I thought we already cleared that one up, honey," She replied.  
"And, you knew who I was all those years when you babysat me? You knew what this was?" I pushed up the hair covering my forehead to expose the scar.  
"Well, you see, the story of me coming to live here at Privet Drive is a long and involved one. I will tell you soon, but not tonight. We are both weary and have a lot to think about." Mrs. Figg stood up, and placed our cups in the sink. "Let's off to bed, what do you say?" I'd never heard a more brilliant suggestion in my life. She led me to the guest bedroom, which smelled less like cabbage than the rest of the house.  
"Good night, Harry," she said, and closed the door behind her as she left. I couldn't help but wonder if Mrs. Figg was part of the protection that Dumbledore talked about before. She was right there before I was about to leave; maybe she's supposed to keep me from abandoning Dumbledore's protection.  
Then, quite suddenly, Hedwig soared in through the open window. She seemed upset at my new setting, most likely because of the intense scent of cat, but she nipped my hand benevolently anyway. She perched on the bedpost, and ruffled her wet feathers, attempting to dry them. I smiled and crawled into the warm bed, letting dreamless sleep take me away from everything I had to worry about.  
  
I woke the next morning to Hedwig's soft, musical screech just outside the window. She was pumping her powerful wings, soaring away with a note attached to her leg.  
"Way-eet" I coughed in a high squeaky voice. I cleared my throat, "Wait!" I shouted more clearly out the window toward my owl. She turned her head, and did a nice bank curve back toward the window. She gently landed on the sill, and I reached to take off the note. Hedwig pulled back defensively, and nipped the air threateningly close to my fingers.  
"Whoa, girl. What's the matter? I just want to see it, then I'll let you take it where you need to go." Hedwig reluctantly let me remove the message from her leg, and ruffled her feathers menacingly.  
It was just as I had suspected. Mrs. Figg was using Hedwig for her own use now. I figure, it's my owl, so I should be allowed to read what she is delivering. I unfolded the paper containing a short message:  
Dumbledore,  
I'm not sure what to make of this. I think you should take a look at it closely. Harry received the attached note about a week ago at his muggle relatives' house. We're ready to leave if worst comes to worst. Contact me soon.  
Figg  
Along with that letter was Cho's jumbled note. Why on earth was Mrs. Figg sending Cho's letter to Dumbledore? 


	9. Mrs Figg's Secrets

Chapter 9  
  
"Ouch!" I exclaimed after Hedwig aggressively bit my finger. "All right, all right! I'll let you take the letter." I reluctantly tied both letters back to Hedwig's impatient leg. I watched her powerful wings catch the air, and she soared out the window. I immediately wished I didn't let her go so easily. I didn't exactly want Dumbledore to see Cho's private message to me, even if she DID write to gruesome Goyle as well.  
  
I ventured downstairs, where breakfast was steaming on the table. Mrs. Figg left a note, saying she was gone for the morning. The more I thought about the letter, the less it made sense, and the more I began to dislike Mrs. Figg. I mean, sure it was really odd, but did she really have to send it to Dumbledore? I was sure he had more important things to do, especially since Voldemort and the Death Eaters were back...  
  
Death Eaters!? My eyes widened with realization and my heart pumped hysterically. Goyle. Goyle is a Death Eater! The Death Eaters all want me dead, and the easiest way to find me would be through a friend... Beads of sweat accumulated on my brow, and my skin felt hot. The memories of the terrible night flooded my mind before I could stop them. "Goyle..." a cold voice listed the Death Eaters names. The tiny kitchen began to fade; it felt like something dark and hot was burning in my eyes. `It's just your imagination,' I told myself frantically, `nothing is wrong!' I furiously willed myself to stay conscious, forcing the memory to drain from my vision like a searing, hot liquid.  
  
The kitchen slowly returned to normal as I sat, breathing hard, staring at my white knuckles. Cho... how could you?  
  
"Harry!" Mrs. Figg appeared in the kitchen with a small gust of wind, her arms full of brown grocery bags. "Harry what's wrong? Did anything happen? Are you okay?" She heaved the bags onto the table, and then sat down on the chair next to me.  
  
"I'm fine," I lied quickly avoiding eye contact, "I'm just a little tired still." My eyes were still burning, and I rubbed them in what I hope looked like a sleepy way. Mrs. Figg's curious, worried stare lingered for a few moments then melted into a warm smile.  
  
"You have your mother's eyes." My heart gave a jolt, and I met Mrs. Figg's gaze. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, as if she was surprised at herself for saying it. "You-- you knew my mother?" I asked, timidly opening the door to Mrs. Figg's mysterious past. She stood up, reached into one of the grocery bags, and began putting things away. It seemed as if she'd slammed the door I opened in my face.  
  
"Harry," She sighed with a contemplative expression, "I don't know how much Dumbledore has told you, or how much he would allow me to tell you..."  
  
Oh! Now we're getting somewhere! Mrs. Figg obviously knows a lot more than she lets on. She must have noticed how I had become a lot more interested in the conversation. "No, Harry, I promised myself I wouldn't tell you anything." She resumed putting jars of food into the refrigerator.  
  
"Come on, Mrs. Figg!" I resorted to pleading; "you just can't leave me in the dark about everything! Try and see it from my point of view: I live with the world's worst family and finally decide to leave when you stop me, and out of nowhere I find out you're a witch, a witch who knows a lot more about me than I do." Mrs. Figg sat down again, and put her hand on mine.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, "I guess I am being a little selfish..." Mrs. Figg shifted in her chair, obviously getting comfortable enough for telling a long story. I smiled at her and she began. 


	10. Lily Evans

Chapter 10  
  
"Know now, Harry, before I begin, that I cannot tell you everything. I leave much of that up to Dumbledore, Lupin, and other people who know more than I do. Well, I suppose the story begins years and years ago, when I was visiting Hogwarts for a Ministry of Magic meeting. Dumbledore and I sat in his office (we were good friends) discussing how the year was going.  
  
"Unfortunately one of the professors, Madam Qyetes, had fallen terribly ill only a few weeks in. She taught flying lessons, apperation lessons, refereed the quidditch matches, and was the leader of many in-school clubs. Naturally, I wanted to help Albus out, so I volunteered to take her job until a permanent replacement could be found. I became Madam Figg, and managed to maintain everything that Madam Qyetes had been able to.  
  
"I remember when I first met your mother. Her fiery hair and brilliant eyes caught everyone's attention. She was in her last year at Hogwarts when I began, and leader of the Incantation Club. Lily and I became very close in the course of that year. She would tutor younger students in my office, to get away from the rest of the noisy school, and I would listen to her problems and worries (mostly about the future).  
  
"One time she ran into my office in tears because a young man named James spilled Streeler slime all over her Hogwarts robes during potions. Unfortunately, one characteristic of Streeler slime is that it turns clothing odd colors. I didn't get to meet James until the quidditch season started, and even then I didn't know much about him, apart from him being an excellent chaser. Lily always complained about James and his band of friends; how they pestered her and pulled tricks on her all the time. She blamed James for most everything because he was the ringleader, the cruelest trickster. But it wasn't like she acted like a fairy around him; she was known to set charms on him that would last at least several days."  
  
Mrs. Figg sighed nostalgically, and smiled. "The way that they bickered all seven years through school, no one ever thought they would get together. Of course, it wasn't until after Hogwarts that they began to spend more time with each other, and eventually they got married and had you..."  
  
Mrs. Figg stared at her fingers on the table sadly. "I loved your mother, Harry," she said. "I loved her like a daughter, and I was willing to do anything for her." Her eyes threatened to drip tears, but she held them in and continued.  
  
"I can't tell you everything, Harry, and I'm sorry for that. But I can tell you that when your parents died and you got sent to the Dursley's, I promised I would secretly look after you, and in doing so, I would have to give up most of my magical life. As you know, this neighborhood swarms with gossip and rumors, and I had to be sure I wasn't caught. It is bad enough having twenty or so kneazles running around..."  
  
"Kneazles?" I asked. Mrs. Figg pointed to one of her cats.  
  
"That right there is a kneazle." The cat, er, kneazle, looked up as if it knew we were talking about it. "Useful creatures for the line of work I used to be in. I got so attached to them. Luckily they resemble cats enough, I can get away with them."  
  
"What is it that you needed them for? What was your job?" I questioned, eyeing the kneazle around my ankles with uncertainty. I hoped she wasn't ever a Care of Magical Creatures teacher, thinking of Hagrid's dangerous `pets.'  
  
Mrs. Figg chuckled at me, then shook her head, "No, I don't think I can answer that one, Harry." I slouched into my seat, sensing the story was finished. It was nice knowing a little about my parents when they were in school. I inhaled the sweet air pouring through the open window. It was nice being somewhere besides the Dursley's, and the cabbage smell seemed to have disappeared entirely.  
  
"Why couldn't I have stayed with you instead?" I asked quietly.  
  
Mrs. Figg smiled, "It's the same reason why you couldn't stay with any wizarding family. Dumbledore didn't want you to know everything until you were ready."  
  
"Well, why couldn't you have acted like a muggle like you did all those years, and raise me that way?" I persisted. If she really loved my mother so much, wouldn't she want the best for me?  
  
"I couldn't have raised you like that, Harry," she said, "and I'm sorry to say that, again, I can't tell you why."  
  
I began to get frustrated. I'm 15 years old! How can I still be too young to know? I've seen things some people have mere nightmares about; I've seen what no other teenager should have to even know of!  
  
"Harry, calm down," Mrs. Figg said. "You have to believe me when I say this: I wish with all my heart that you could have stayed with me. The Dursley's are not normal, even in the muggle world. I knew when you were little that they wouldn't be good to you. But..." Her stare traveled to the bruise on my arm, "but I didn't know it would end up like that." I watched the corners of her eyes as they slowly filled with tears. "How could I have let this happen to you? What would your mother say?"  
  
"It's not your fault," I said, wishing she wouldn't cry. "It's not your fault..."  
  
She looked up at me with dreadful eyes. My heart began to pound nervously as I examined her face...  
  
"... was it?" 


	11. Fingers on a Chalkboard

Chapter 11  
  
A rather large tear splashed onto the table.  
"Mrs. Figg... it wasn't... how could it have been?" I was scared to know the answer. How could she be at fault for me living with the Dursleys?  
"You're right Harry," she whispered, "it wasn't exactly my fault... but... we almost had Voldemort... we were so close," Mrs. Figg slapped the table with her hand. "If only we could have stopped him..." The deepest sense of regret rang in her voice. Her brow wrinkled in infinite frustration as she stared at her cup of tea.  
I longingly wanted to know what she meant; whom did she mean by `we', how close were they to capturing Voldemort? I wanted to know but the answer was wrapped in secrecy.  
"I'll never forget how he almost fell, how much I dreamed for him to lose power... but," she continued with a small smile, "it does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live..." My heart writhed nostalgically as I remembered Dumbledore's exact words in front of the Mirror of Erised...  
Quite suddenly, there was a terribly loud scraping noise at the window, not unlike fingernails on a chalkboard. I stood up quickly, accidentally overturning the kitchen chair, and turned to face the window, but nothing was there. The wind blew through the curtains eerily, quietly, like a dark, menacing ghost.  
"Harry, upstairs, go!" Mrs. Figg commanded quickly. I tore my eyes from the window and looked at Mrs. Figg, who stared at where the noise came from, and pulled out her wand. Another bloodcurdling scraping noise sounded from the other end of the house, and then from the basement door. "GO!" she yelled, and gave me a shove down the hallway. She turned her back to me and faced the open window. The sky outside had turned murky and green. I stole a glance out one of the front windows. Silhouetted against the streetlamp was a dark, cloaked figure. Suddenly, the streetlamp went out, plunging the figure into the terrifying shadows.  
It was like I was stuck in a nightmare. The house began to creak and shake as all the windows screeched deafeningly. I strained to hear my own footsteps over the noise as I rapidly dashed up the stairs. I stopped when I got to the top, the echo of a dark vibrating voice penetrating the rest of the clamor.  
I heard Mrs. Figg's muffled voice and a flash of orange light followed by a loud thump. She appeared at the bottom of the stairway, running as fast as she could, her eyes flashing with a mix of terror and haste. The windows were either slammed open or broken as she rushed up the steps.  
"The spare bedroom!" she gasped, "broomsticks..."  
I turned and sprinted to the room, opening the closet door with a bang. I took out my Firebolt and another broom that was standing next to it. The windows were painted shut, I couldn't budge them open, so I grabbed a small stool and hit the window with all my might. It sloppily broke into pieces. Mrs. Figg raced into the room; I threw her the extra broomstick, and hopped onto my own. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a tall, cloaked form glide into the room. It looked like a dementor, but I didn't stick around to find out. With a surge of wind, I flew out the window, receiving quite a few cuts from the broken glass on the way out. I heard the whisk of Mrs. Figg's broom and we were off into the murky night sky. 


	12. The First Adventure

Chapter 12  
  
Normally, when I ride my broom, the free sensation is enough to mask any other emotions... but not today. The wind whistled in my ears as I rose up higher and higher. I carefully glanced back at Mrs. Figg's house, where several dark men were scattered around the parameter, hiding behind bushes and fences. My heart pumped painfully in fear, and gooseflesh spread all the way to my toes at the chilling sight. The house became smaller and smaller as we rode into the low clouds. I was glad to see that Mrs. Figg's broom was keeping up with the Firebolt quite well, and I sped up a little to get away from the nightmarish scene.  
  
The clouds were thick and moist, drops of water accumulated on the hairs of my arms. I lost sight of Mrs. Figg in the cottony mist, and slowed down considerably to try and spot her.  
  
"Mrs. Figg!" I yelled into the clouds, but the wind carried my voice quickly away. I could barely see the tip of my broomstick; the cloud cover was growing steadily worse. I thought I saw a figure through the clouds, but it turned out to be a bird.  
  
"Mrs. FIGG!" I yelled in vain. I began to panic slightly. What was I going to do? I couldn't go back to the Dursley's, and I most certainly couldn't go to Mrs. Figg's. I drifted with the wind, barely steering the broom at all, putting my fate in nature's hands. Mrs. Figg's house has all my belongings... what am I going to do? My trunk is there, Hedwig's cage is there, (I reached into my pocket and blissfully sighed at the presence of my wand) how will I get everything back? Will Hedwig know where to find me? I smirked knowingly, thankful that Hedwig always knew where I was, but still shivered in apprehension about everything else.  
  
The clouds began to thin, and tops of trees drifted dreamily underneath me.  
  
"OUCH!!!!!" With a loud bang and a painful howl, I floated right into something very solid and large. Upon closer inspection, I found out I landed right on somebody's roof, but it wasn't anywhere near Privet Drive. Trees surrounded the house, as far as I could tell from the noises of nature echoing from afar.  
  
I picked up the Firebolt and studied my surroundings. The house wasn't very big, only one story, but I didn't know if it was a muggle house or a wizard's house. Just in case, I silently mounted my broom, and floated to the ground. The windows were dark and the curtains closed, so I couldn't spy very effectively. I slumped onto the ground and rested my back on the wall of the house, laying the Firebolt across my lap. I picked off bits of debris from the bristles, and rubbed the handle where it scratched the roof.  
  
The fog wasn't so bad anymore; I could see about 50 yards into the forest. I detached a leaf from the wooden bristles and let it fly into the wind. I watched it twist into the treetops, when the faint sound of a twig snapping broke through the air. I fearfully stared into the forest as far as I could. The sound came from right in front of me. I almost stood up and ran, but held my breath as another branch cracked. A short form was making its way slowly through the fog and towards the cottage where I sat.  
  
I silently drew my knees up to my chest, the Firebolt still in my lap, and wrapped my arms around my legs.  
  
"Well, well, well. Harry, you do know how to lose an old lady quickly, don't you?" Mrs. Figg's bright half-smile pierced through the fog brightly as she stepped into view.  
  
I exhaled quickly and let my knees drop, letting a small smile visit my lips.  
  
Mrs. Figg sat down in the dirt right next to me, nervously glancing into the woods  
  
"Well," she sighed, "that was an adventure. " 


	13. Dumbledore's Answer

Chapter 13  
  
My head began to pound painfully as Mrs. Figg and I sat there silently. She listened carefully to every little noise that penetrated through the fog. The wind hushed to a stop and the trees hung like ghosts, half-hidden in silvery white. I stole a glance at Mrs. Figg's wristwatch, and couldn't believe it was already late afternoon. This time yesterday I was mowing the Dursley's ruddy lawn. It seemed like an eternity ago. I chuckled to myself as I remembered the charm Mrs. Figg put on Vernon. I wish I could have seen him.  
  
I almost asked Mrs. Figg how she performed the charm exactly, when I heard the familiar sound of an owl's wings pumping the air.  
  
"Hedwig!" I exclaimed and Mrs. Figg jumped. I stood up too quickly causing my headache to worsen, but ignored the pain and held out my arm. I could barely see her white feathers through the fog, but I listened and knew how close she was. With a gentle grip she clasped to my forearm and flapped her wings until she was steady.  
  
"Let me see that, Harry," Mrs. Figg said tersely. I gave her a confused look then began handing over Hedwig. "No, not the bird," she smiled a little, "the letter on her leg."  
  
Feeling like an idiot, I untied the paper from her leg and handed it to Mrs. Figg. She opened the letter hastily and read it while biting her lip. I reached in my pocket and gave some breadcrumbs to Hedwig, who was quite content with the meager reward, and she soared to the nearest tree branch. I looked at Mrs. Figg as she finished the letter with a sigh.  
  
"Well, I wish I'd known that earlier..." and she handed me the note.  
  
Figg,  
  
I can't express enough the urgent need for you and Harry to leave at once. I'd give you the details if I weren't afraid of an interception along the way. I can only hope that this letter is on time--and if it is not--I would rather hear of your whereabouts from an owl of yours than from the Daily Prophet's missing list (which is, unfortunately, growing a little longer every week). Harry is probably bursting with questions. First, get him out of danger, then answer as many as you see fit, including what the letter from the other student was about. Don't tell about the order, but don't leave the boy in the dark either. I hope to hear from you as soon as wizardly possible.  
  
Dumbledore  
  
I let the paper rest in my fingers for a few moments, realizing in full the amount of danger I was in earlier in the day. If Dumbledore wanted me to leave, that must mean something is wrong with the protection he talked about at the end of last year. First, he warned me to stay at Privet Drive, but now he's warning me to get away as fast as possible.  
  
Mrs. Figg walked to the window of the small cabin we had been resting against and peered inside. It seemed good enough for her because she motioned me to follow her to the front door. She opened the door and waved me in, but she stayed outside.  
  
"Defludomus" she uttered and pressed the cabin with her wand. The whole house turned a deep shade of blue for a moment, and then faded back to its dull brown hue. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.  
  
"Okay, Harry," Mrs. Figg sighed, "I think you should know about this letter..." 


	14. Who and What

Chapter 14  
  
Mrs. Figg pulled back a curtain and looked outside. "Well, I want you to know that Cho Chang, this Ravenclaw friend of yours, did not write the letters."  
  
It felt like a huge weight lifted from my shoulders and I sighed... this was the best news I had gotten in a long time. But this news created more questions than it answered.  
  
"If Cho didn't write them," I questioned, "then who did?"  
  
Mrs. Figg shrugged then exhaled a sigh. "That's what I was trying to find out this morning. I left to go meet with some... friends, and tried to solve this mystery."  
  
I heard the hesitation in her voice. "Who did you meet..."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Harry," she cut me off quickly. "But we examined a copy of the letter and compared it to Cho's handwriting; neither letter was written by her. I sent the actual letter to Dumbledore before you woke up. That's why your owl was gone..."  
  
"Actually," I interrupted, "I stopped Hedwig before she left and I read your message."  
  
"Aha," she smiled knowingly, "Dumbledore said you were one to solve mysteries."  
  
I sat down on a moldy chair and frowned. I wasn't doing so well with this one. I hadn't even figured out that Cho didn't write the letter. If only Ron and Hermione were here, we could figure this one out in no time. More unanswered questions rose to mind as I tried to work it out.  
  
"Well, if we don't know who sent it, do we at least know why they did?"  
  
Mrs. Figg sat down opposite of me and stared into my eyes. "Yes, Harry, I do know why... but I don't know if you should hear it, it might disturb you."  
  
I cracked a smile and told her that I found out Sirius Black was after me two summers ago and I handled it well.  
  
Mrs. Figg frowned. "Death Eaters are a lot more dangerous than Sirius Black, Harry."  
  
I let my smile fade and tried to look as responsible as I could. "I can handle anything, Mrs. Figg."  
  
"Okay." She pulled up one knee on her chair; the pose made her look a lot younger. "Years ago, when your parents died and you were given to the Dursleys, Dumbledore cast a very powerful spell to keep you safe and hidden from the Death Eaters."  
  
"Did I have a secret-keeper?"  
  
"No. After what happened to your parents, Dumbledore decided it would be wrong to put you in that kind of danger. Secret-keepers are best for wizards and witches who can instill their trust into another human of their choice. You were only a baby, and we thought it best to use a type of magic that couldn't betray you..."  
  
Betrayal... Peter Pettigrew's ratty face appeared in my mind. My parents had trusted him...  
  
"Harry, are you alright?"  
  
I snapped out of my daze. "Sorry, I'm fine... please continue."  
  
"Well, Dumbledore used an ancient spell that is hardly in use today."  
  
"How does it work?" I wondered aloud.  
  
"Nobody but Dumbledore knows. The Order decided after what happened to your parents, that no one could be trusted with the spell's workings."  
  
A warm blanket of relief settled on my mind, but quickly vanished when I remembered the sight of black-cloaked wizards around Mrs. Figg's house. "They were Death Eaters who attacked us this morning, weren't they?"  
  
Mrs. Figg nodded solemnly. "Yes, Harry. They found you." 


	15. A DeadEnd

Chapter 15  
  
"But how? How did they find me? Did Dumbledore's spell not work?" I fearfully threw out questions faster than I could even think of them. If Dumbledore couldn't stop the Death Eaters, I would have no chance of hiding from them out here.  
  
"It's not that the spell didn't work, Harry, It's just that... well, there was a loophole." Mrs. Figg placed a hand on my knee, but I stood up and began to pace, shaking my head in disbelief.  
  
"A loophole!" I spat, "Oh that's just great! Fix me up with a spell that won't work, what a great idea!" My voice began to shake in anger. I knew I was becoming irrational, but there were Death Eaters after me! I kicked over an end table furiously and it toppled to the ground along with the lamp on top of it.  
  
"Harry, stop it! That spell was the best we could do!" Mrs. Figg stood up in frustration. I walked over to her and stared into her eyes, searching for answers.  
  
"What happened, Mrs. Figg?" I whispered. "Tell me the truth. How did they find me?"  
  
Before Mrs. Figg could answer, there was a deafening bang on the back door. Mrs. Figg grasped my hand and pulled me away from the noise and toward the front of the cabin. Another bang sounded from the front door before we could escape. A deep male voice penetrated through the wall: "Prodeodomus." The whole house turned a strange hue of orange, then returned to brown.  
  
"What's happening?" I cried, "What spell was that?" Mrs. Figg pulled me into a closet with her. The closet was as far away from both the front door and the back door as it could get. I could see Hedwig perched on a branch through one of the windows. She was turning her head sporadically, as if trying to watch many things at once.  
  
"Hedwig!" Mrs. Figg called out the window. Hedwig answered with a shriek and appeared quickly. Out of her purse, Mrs. Figg produced a scrap of paper and a pen, and wrote a hasty note.  
  
"Hurry!" I yelled. I could hear the front doorknob being rattled ferociously; whoever was on the other side had almost broken the lock. Mrs. Figg finished the note, and began to tie it to Hedwig's leg. Hedwig, sensing the danger and urgency of the message, clasped her beak around it and pulled it from Mrs. Figg's grasp, then flew away faster than I had ever seen.  
  
"Well, that's good, but now we're trapped!" I shouted. Mrs. Figg put a finger to her lips and shut us both inside of the closet. It was dark; the only light came from under the doorway. I stepped away from the light, but got myself tangled in a web of old, smelly coats. I felt some kind of bug crawl across one of my hands, so I tried to shake it off, but ended up banging my arm against the closet wall very loudly.  
  
"Be quiet!" hissed Mrs. Figg. I bit my lip and stopped the swinging coats.  
  
"Alohomora" In the dead quiet I heard the faint click of the front door's lock springing open. The door creaked and footsteps began to echo in the cabin.  
  
"Where are they?" a deep voice questioned.  
  
"Be quiet, just look around!" another answered. Their voices were so low I could barely hear them. From the sound of the noise they made, there were only two of them.  
  
I heard tables being overturned and glass breaking. Footsteps clunked closer to the closet very slowly. The light beneath the doorway faded into a shadow. I held my breath. The footsteps stopped, and the shadow didn't move. My hands began to shake uncontrollably as I slowly reached for my wand. There was the sound of a single footstep and the shadow became darker. I looked over at the faint, trembling silhouette of Mrs. Figg, and then closed my eyes as the doorknob turned. 


	16. Kidnappers and Killers

Chapter 16  
  
The doorknob rotated slowly, and so did my stomach. I felt like I was going to be seriously sick when the knob stopped, and the door began to open. I opened my eyes, and squinted out of the crack.  
  
I didn't really think about doing it; I guess it seemed like the best thing to do at the time. I braced a foot on the ground, and threw all of my weight on the door. It swung open in a blur as I heard and felt it knock the man over. He yelped in surprise as he fell to the ground. I stood in the middle of the hallway, numbly staring at the black cloak writhing on the floor.  
  
"Hey!" I whirled around and saw the other wizard, angrily stomping toward me from the other side of the house. His hood was down, but I didn't recognize who it was. Mrs. Figg stumbled out of the closet next to me, and locked eyes with the man marching toward us. The man paused, and narrowed his eyes in hatred. Mrs. Figg reflected the look, with fire in her glare. Before I had time to blink, Mrs. Figg whipped out her wand and yelled a curse at the man's legs. His large, square body met the ground with a thunderous crash. From the ground, he spat his own curse and it hit Mrs. Figg, whose hair caught on fire. She gasped and ran back into the closet, attempting to smother the blue flame with a coat.  
  
I stumbled in bewilderment, and took a step backward. Suddenly, it felt like my right ankle was in a vise; something was crushing it painfully. I looked down, and the first wizard seemed to be over the initial shock of being hit with a door. His grip on my leg was sending pain all through my body, and it took all my strength to stay standing. He held on while still on the floor, laughing manically and trying to grab hold of my other foot.  
  
"AAAURG!!" I painfully groaned and tried in vein to shake my leg from his grasp. His fingers were like iron; no matter how hard I kicked his arm, he wouldn't let go. And then, I felt something snap as he tightened his hold. My leg lost all feeling, and I numbly realized that he had broken my ankle with his bare hand.  
  
I cried in pain and fell to the ground. Iron Fingers held one of my shoulders down and reached for his wand. I struggled to get away, but I was pinned. With an evil glare, he raised his wand and chuckled. I closed my eyes, but a with a sharp crack and warm glow, his weight lifted off of me. He had been hit by a spell cast by Mrs. Figg, who was standing in the closet, her hair smoking but no longer aflame.  
  
Mrs. Figg pulled me to my feet hastily, and I tried to put weight on the right foot. I bit my lip and tried to bear the pain; it was only a minor fracture.  
  
"Harry, out the window!" Mrs. Figg began to push me towards the open window. I swung my bad leg over first, then looked back. Both wizards had gotten up and were advancing from both sides. There wasn't enough time for both of us.  
  
"But, Mrs. Figg!…" I pulled out my wand again, and began to climb back inside.  
  
"No, Harry! Just go!" For half a second we caught eyes, and I inaudibly pled to stay with her. Mrs. Figg's eyes were concrete with resolve; she shoved me out and closed the window. I landed with a thud and scrambled to my feet. I couldn't just run away. I tried to open the window again, but it was locked. I helplessly watched as Mrs. Figg, poised to defend, swung her head side to side, attempting to watch both attackers at once.  
  
I thought the two wizards were alone; I had no idea there was another one outside waiting. Before I knew what was happening, my arm was being wrenched behind my back, and a hand covered my mouth. I tried to writhe away but every motion made my arm hurt that much worse.  
  
Tears of pain and frustration began to stream down my cheeks and onto the rough hand covering my mouth. I was being pulled away from the window, away from Mrs. Figg.  
  
A harsh, taunting whisper came from behind me. "Don't cry, it will all be over soon…" I didn't bother to try and recognize the cold voice. My attention was focused on the window, where Mrs. Figg was struggling to keep the attackers at bay. Suddenly, a blinding light emitted from the cabin, and I heard a body sickeningly fall to the ground… 


	17. Shadows of Trees

1 @Fledge: The first couple of chapters had a twinge of humor, but once I decided to make it into a real story, it turned very dramatic. I just never bothered to change it :)  
  
@Almah: Don't call me Chocolate here…. lol  
  
  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter 17  
  
I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear my vision from the blinding flash. The death grip on my arm loosened as the wizard behind me turned his full attention to the cabin. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't feel anything, but somehow I willed myself to wrench from his grasp. I spun around and yelled " Expelliarmus," sending him through the air until his back hit a tree trunk. I looked back at the window, where I saw two black figures rummaging around. Mrs. Figg had fallen....  
  
I ran into the forest as fast as my ankle would allow. My throat was swollen with anguish, and my breaths came in heavy sobs. The trees flew past me as the woods became denser and darker. The colorful, sunset-painted sky disappeared behind thick leaves and branches. It felt like I was running in slow motion, each footstep took more energy then I had. My broken foot got caught on a root, and I fell painfully to the leaf-strewn ground.  
  
I leaned my back against a tree trunk and disappeared into its shadow. Distant footsteps and snapping branches warned me of the dark wizards' positions  
  
My ankle swelled rapidly and painfully, and so did my lungs. My whole body shook gently with my dissipating sobs, and every part of me ached. Mrs. Figg was gone. She had done everything for me, all the way from the beginning. Years ago she gave up her life as a witch to watch over me; minutes ago she gave her life to save me. I began to think of my mother…  
  
My fingers grazed over a smooth stone on the ground, and my eyes burned with tears. I shook my head and closed my eyes tightly. "Stop crying!" I told myself. "Why are you acting like such a baby?" I clenched the stone in my fist and then threw it as hard as I could into the dark forest.  
  
The distant footsteps paused suddenly, and then swiftly grew closer. I pressed my back into the tree trunk, cursing myself for being so stupid. A minute later, the forest grew unnaturally quiet; I strained my ears, but the footsteps had gone silent. I held my breath, pressing my back even harder into the tree trunk, wishing I could just melt into it.  
  
Then, a large shadow emerged to the immediate right of me. My heart beat frantically as the figure walked slowly and silently no more than five feet from where I sat. I turned my eyes toward his head, and realized he couldn't see me through the dark on the forest floor.  
  
"Crabbe!" a voice whispered loudly from the dark forest. "Crabbe! Come over here."  
  
"Shut it, will ya!" The man to my right whispered harshly.  
  
"But come here! I think I found something!" My mind began to race as I realized these were Death Eaters. Crabbe continued to tread quietly into the woods, away from the other Death Eater's voice.  
  
"Hey, Crabbe!" The impatient whisper wouldn't be ignored.  
  
Crabbe groaned and began stomping towards the voice… and towards me. I tried to make myself smaller against the tree, but I was too exposed. Crabbe stopped, and his angry eyes caught mine. He smiled and pointed his wand at me.  
  
The last thing I remembered was the word [I]"everbero"[/I] echoing harshly in my head, before I fell to the ground into darkness. 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
  
I woke to the sound of loud ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything except a black-gold cloud swirling dizzyingly in front of me. I lifted my hand to my head to help steady my thoughts. My face felt like it had been slammed with a concrete slab, and was tender to the touch. I felt blood pulsing heavily in my head as the swirling cloud began to dissipate and my setting came into view.  
  
I was in what looked like a dungeon, not unlike Snape's classroom, with several chains hanging from the ceiling and no windows. A solitary desk rested in the middle with a hunched figure writing something on it with his back to me. I was in the corner, and as my vision became clearer, realized there were thick bars between the rest of the room and me. I numbly reached in my pocket. It was empty; my wand was gone. I spotted it on the edge of the desk along with a few other items that happened to be in my pockets.  
  
I sat up all the way, and rested my back against the icy, stone wall. The cage I sat in was about 6 feet square with bars on two sides, the wall on the others. Apart from the ringing in my ears, I heard a faint dripping noise and the scratching of the wizard's quill.  
  
My eyes settled on the door of the cage, which, I realized with a leap of my stomach, had no lock to keep me inside. I quietly crawled over to it, planning on opening it slowly to keep it from creaking, and then I would sneak up to the desk, snatch my wand and perform a curse before the occupied wizard knew what hit him.  
  
My fingers were millimeters from the bars. I hesitated when I felt a strange chill before I touched them… but took a deep breath then pushed on the door.  
  
I let out a yelp as the bars burned my skin like fire. I fell back down to the floor as the palms of my hands turned bright red and raw. The wizard at the desk turned in surprise, and then wore a disgusting, green smile as he met my eyes.  
  
"Ah. Welcome, Harry Potter." It was Crabbe, the Death Eater from the forest. I blew on my hands frantically, keeping my eyes on him. In the light, I could see the striking resemblance between him and his son. The air smelled faintly of burnt flesh and my hands shook in pain.  
  
"I wouldn't go touching those bars any more if I were you," he said.  
  
"Thanks," I said coldly, "but you don't have to treat me like your son. I have some common sense."  
  
He began to stride angrily toward me. "Do you really?" He hissed. "Then why, let me ask, did you touch the cage in the first place? Did you actually think that I would leave it open for you to escape?!"  
  
I shut my mouth and stared at him. His red face was near the bars, and he was crouching menacingly. I looked away from his narrow eyes, realizing that he was right.  
  
"Of course," he straightened up, "you DID just wake up from an Everbero charm, so I'll cut you some slack." He strode back over to the desk and folded a piece of paper.  
  
I sat back up, careful not to let my sore hands touch the floor. I kept talking, hoping to get some kind of useful information.  
  
"What's an Everbero charm?" I questioned, hoping not to sound too casual.  
  
"It's a painful one… formerly used to knock out large animals before Magical Animal Rights Activists came around." Crabbe was shuffling around papers and quills on the messy desk. I looked back at my hands, when something on my foot caught my eye. There was a splint supporting it, and the swelling had subsided. Before I could ponder why my enemies would help me like that, a large wizard entered the chamber. He was bigger than Crabbe, although less muscular. I concluded that it must have been Goyle, with his pig-nose and round ears like his son's.  
  
"Here," Crabbe said, and handed Goyle the folded note carefully. "Send this quickly… our work is just about finished." Goyle laughed stupidly and grasped the note harshly in his fist.  
  
"Uh, you oaf!" Crabbe snatched the note back, took out his wand, and sent a red stream of light at it, ironing out the wrinkles and making it neat again. "We can't send him a note that looks like trash!" Goyle frowned, and then took the note gently, handling it as if it were made of glass. Crabbe rolled his eyes. Goyle turned and noticed me for the first time.  
  
"Oh, look who's awake!" He sneered. "The Famous Harry Potter. Ha! You couldn't even keep yourself from a couple of wizards." He poked at the bars without incident… they were obviously only meant to hurt me if I touched them.  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "What about you? At least I don't run around in the shadow of slime like Malfoy." Although I didn't know it was entirely true, I assumed they were just like their sons, the stupid sidekicks. "I'll bet you two would be nothing without Lucius Malfoy paving the way."  
  
Goyle's mouth pursed angrily. "As a matter of fact," he scoffed and shook the paper in this hand, "this letter right here says that Crabbe and I… Ooof!" Crabbe elbowed him hard in the stomach.  
  
"Shut up, you idiot! Just go and send it!" Goyle grunted, and turned away, sulking out the door. Crabbe was obviously the smarter of the two, and wasn't too keen on giving out any information. He turned to me again.  
  
"Just sit there and stay quiet! You'll be in there for a while."  
  
I studied his broad face. "I'm right, aren't I? You just do whatever Malfoy tells you to do, just like your son does." Crabbe's face began to pulse with rising fury. I kept on, fueling his anger. "You don't even have minds of your own. You're just Malfoy's [I]pawns[/I]!"  
  
Crabbe stuck a fist between the bars and grabbed the cuff of my shirt. I tried frantically to wrench myself away, but he held fast. He jerked my body towards the bars and I strained my neck, trying to keep my face away from the scalding metal.  
  
"I am not Malfoy's PAWN!" He yelled, and pulled my face into the bars. My cheek only touched it for a second, but it burned nonetheless. He threw me down to the ground.  
  
"Malfoy doesn't know what he's doing half the time! He struts around, pretending to have all the power in the world while doing nothing practical to help You-Know-Who! He thinks he can be the best in the Dark Lord's eyes just by being a high political power!" Crabbe began to pace, and I realized what was unfolding in front of me. The Death Eaters were competing with each other.  
  
Crabbe continued his apoplectic speech, his head shaking. "I can't believe he's even gained this much power to begin with. He's all talk, but no actions! How will he be able to compare anything to my capture of Harry Potter?"  
  
I rubbed my scalding cheek, but couldn't let him stop. "What about Goyle? He helped too."  
  
Crabbe laughed. "Goyle. He didn't do anything! I found out how to breech Dumbledore's protection and locate you. I did the research, and even found out whom to make your letter from! I did everything! No, Goyle was MY pawn on this little adventure!"  
  
I took in a breath suddenly as a stream of indigo light hit Crabbe in the side. Goyle walked into the dungeon with a purple face. Crabbe grabbed his side in pain as Goyle sidled nearer. "Just a pawn, eh?" 


	19. Chapter 19

1 Chapter 19  
  
The pain in my face and hands diminished quickly, as I watched the two wizards stare each other down. Crabbe's robes began to soak with blood from his side, and Goyle stood with his wand clumsily in his hand. Although Goyle wasn't the smartest creature alive, I could tell he knew how to expertly duel by his stance. Crabbe stared back at Goyle from his spot on the ground—reminiscent of the way Vernon looked at me, like a foul piece of garbage.  
  
Goyle was the first to speak: "You told me that we were going to do this thing together, that we would both get the credit! What happened?" He began to circle around Crabbe. His footsteps echoed off the stony walls.  
  
"I would share the credit, if you had done anything worth while to mention to You-Know-Who!" Crabbe winced in pain as he clutched his side, but continued on. "[I]I[/I] was the one who found out how Dumbledore was keeping the boy safe, which wasn't easy when nobody, not even in the Order of Phoenix, knows how the spell works! I found out everything while you twiddled your thumbs, waiting for me to find a loophole!"  
  
"Well… if it wasn't for me… you wouldn't of even known who to make that 'loophole' letter from!" Goyle was obviously trying to come up with things that he had done to help.  
  
Crabbe rolled his eyes. "Oh, I could have found out who the boy had a stupid crush on! And it's not like [I]you[/I] even found out for yourself, you asked your son!"  
  
I sat quietly, trying not to draw any attention to myself in the corner.  
  
Goyle was fuming. "I thought we were a team, Crabbe!" He pointed his long wand at Crabbe's head. "This whole thing was supposed to show how much better we are than Malfoy, but you're just beginning to turn exactly into him!"  
  
At that, Crabbe grabbed his wand from his pocket and swung it wildly at Goyle, and instead of casting a spell, he hit Goyle's wand right out of his hand like they were in a swordfight. Goyle blinked and stared at his empty hand, then turned around, attempting to locate his wand.  
  
It was a bad move on his part. "[I]Petrificus totalus![/I]" Crabbe aimed the spell at Goyle, and it hit him with extraordinary accuracy, considering he performed it while bleeding profusely on the ground.  
  
Crabbe's arms straightened and locked to his side, and his ankles knocked together. He wobbled for a moment, and then fell to the ground face-first. His head cracked noisily on the dungeon floor, and blood seeped out of his nose.  
  
Crabbe opened his cloak and lifted his shirt to examine his wound. Luckily, I couldn't see it from where I was, because it must have been disgusting. Crabbe let out a moan, and turned his wand on himself. I watched, amazed, because it is very difficult to perform a spell on oneself. He sighed in relief as the wound closed and bandages materialized and adhered themselves to his skin.  
  
With a wild expression, Crabbe turned his eyes to me. I scooted back from the bars, to prevent him from reaching in and hurting me again. He sat up slowly. The pain vanished from his face and was replaced with rage. He looked at Goyle's fallen body, then back at me, and smiled eerily.  
  
With a hop, Crabbe got to his feet, and strode to my cage. The door flew open and he ducked inside. He looked remarkably large in the small enclosure. I retreated to the corner, but he grasped my arms and pulled me out, the bars singeing my shoulder on the way out. I struggled to free myself from his grasp, but he was built like a gorilla and wouldn't let go. As he dragged me roughly across the room, we passed the lonely desk. With a flick of my wrist, I grabbed my wand and hid it in my pocket in one fluid motion as we passed it. I looked back at Goyle's immobile body as Crabbe opened the heavy, creaking, dungeon door. 


	20. Chapter 20

1 Chapter 20  
  
Crabbe pushed me through the door and into a small, dark room. There was no visible light source; the walls themselves seemed to give off a faint glow. Crabbe shoved me towards the wall opposite of the door. I stumbled on my injured ankle and fell to the ground. With a flick of his wand, Crabbe conjured a heavy chain and attached one end to the wall… and the other to my broken—but splinted—ankle. The weighted iron of the clasp kept me from escaping, although, I don't know where I could have escaped to.  
  
Crabbe began to pace nervously and mutter to himself. He had obviously not expected this turn of events to occur, and didn't know what to do. He began to mumble something about breaking the Death Eaters' code, although I couldn't catch all of it.  
  
For the first time since I'd been captured, I began to seriously think of what was going to happen to me. Voldemort was most likely on his way, and nobody knew that I had been kidnapped. The future definitely looked grim; I sighed and stared up at the ceiling. A breath got caught in my throat, as hundreds of snake-like stones slithered mutely over my head. They reminded me of the snakes in Chamber of Secrets, but they were more life- like.  
  
I tore my eyes from the ceiling, and looked back at Crabbe, who was staring right at me. His eerie gaze seemed to be searching for answers that I was keeping from him.  
  
"What?" I said more bravely than I felt. "What do you want?"  
  
"Oh, I've practically got what I want… I'm almost the second in command to the most powerful wizard in the world." Crabbe looked away, and began to pace again.  
  
"If you've got what you want, then why are you so nervous?" I figured I would try to pump out as much information as I could.  
  
"I'm not nervous!" he lied. His pacing slowed. "As a matter of fact, the whole plan went almost perfectly, I should be ecstatic…" He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me.  
  
"Almost perfectly?" As soon as I asked the question, I realized how blatantly obvious my curiosity must have seemed. To my surprise, Crabbe didn't notice, and began to talk.  
  
"Yes… almost. I mean, you and Figg weren't supposed to escape the first attack, but she was somehow expecting it… I don't know how…" He glared at me, and I tried to look as confused as possible. "But the second attack was as perfect as I could get it… just me and Goyle versus two unexpecting victims… I knew we could find you easily once she was out of the way." I buried my emotions deep down and hid them from my face. I couldn't let him know how much Mrs. Figg meant to me. Suddenly, I processed what Crabbe had just told me…  
  
"Wait…" I said, "you say that it was just you and Goyle in the woods?"  
  
"Yes, we were the only ones after you. I couldn't let the other Death Eaters know about this. It's my path to the top…" Crabbe stared into space with a dazed expression.  
  
"If you were the only ones, then why was there another Death Eater outside the cabin when I escaped?"  
  
Crabbe snapped out of his daze and stared at me. Taking a step towards me, he seemed to be determining whether or not I was telling the truth. I stared back at him, unmoving. He swore loudly, and began to pace again.  
  
I was beginning to think that this plan didn't work out as 'almost perfectly' as Crabbe had hoped… 


	21. Chapter 21

1 Chapter 21  
  
Crabbe's pacing began to make me nauseated. He wiped the sweat from his brow and walked back and forth in the sweltering hot room. The shifting stone snakes on the ceiling seemed to move slower as the room got hotter. Stinging sweat seeped into my eyes, but I didn't want to wipe it away. I was afraid that Crabbe would notice half of my wand sticking out of my pant pocket, so I didn't move.  
  
Crabbe suddenly turned to me. "Are you positive it was a Death Eater in the woods?"  
  
"I think so…" Crabbe stood above me with a menacing stare, "I mean, I didn't just right out ASK him…"  
  
"Don't joke with me," he huffed.  
  
"I don't know," I said helplessly, "I just assumed that since two Death Eaters were attacking the house, that the man outside was one, too."  
  
"Did he say anything?"  
  
"I don't remember," I shook my head slightly.  
  
"You don't remember? For godssake it was less than 6 hours ago!"  
  
"Well excuse me!" I spat, "but since then I've had an Everbero spell or whatever you call it cast on me, and that didn't help my memory a bit!"  
  
There was a long silence. Crabbe took out his wand and held it loosely in his hands. Then, with the wand in his right hand, he straightened his arm and touched the tip of the stick to my forehead. It was cold as ice.  
  
"You better not be lying, Potter," he whispered, "because illegal curses are my specialty."  
  
I breathed shallowly, staring cross-eyed at the wand.  
  
"Did he say anything, or didn't he?" Crabbe repeated.  
  
I tried hard to remember. The dissipating fog. The musty closet. The painful ankle. I recalled the feel of the cool glass window, keeping me away from saving Mrs. Figg. The man captured me, holding my arm behind my back, pulling me away. Through the memory of emotion, a harsh whisper emerged: "Don't cry, it'll all be over soon…"  
  
The pressure of the wand's tip on my forehead increased. "Well!?" Crabbe snapped, shoving his wand forward.  
  
"Yes," I said. Crabbe pulled the wand away but kept it in his hand.  
  
"What did he say?" Crabbe looked nervous.  
  
"What does it matter?" I asked. "Who is it that you think was there?"  
  
"What did he say!?"  
  
"Who are you afraid of?!"  
  
"I AM NOT AFRAID OF MALFOY!" Crabbe hollered. He pointed his wand straight at my face. The beginning of a curse on his lips, I hastily decided that the time was right. I pulled my wand from my pocket and yelled the first spell that came to mind. "Densaugeo!"  
  
A bright burst came out of my wand and Crabbe stepped back from the force of the spell. After a couple dazed moments, Crabbe blinked, and then looked down at himself to see the affects of the magic. With a small smile he spat, "Nice try, Potter, but it looks as though you'll have to try again." I took a step back as Crabbe raised his wand to me.  
  
"CRU-THIO!" A small spark came out of his wand, followed by a hiss of smoke. "Wha-in-tha?" Crabbe's hand flew to his mouth and his eyes opened wide. His teeth were growing steadily larger and larger. I'm not sure what made me remember that spell just then, but it sure saved me a lot of pain.  
  
Crabbe glared at me angrily. "Impedimenta!" he managed to shout the curse through his large teeth. I slumped to the ground, unable to move my legs or arms.  
  
Crabbe quickly began to shrink his teeth back to normal size, while his Impediment Curse wore off, and then I could move again.  
  
With a quick Alohomora, I unchained myself from the wall and stood up to face Crabbe like a man.  
  
"INCENDIO!"  
  
"RICTUSEMPRA!"  
  
A burst of flames hit Crabbe in the shoulder and set him aflame. I began to laugh at him as he danced around trying to extinguish his robe. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I realized I couldn't stop laughing. A thousand feather-like touches tickled me all over through my clothes. I fell to the ground again, gasping for air.  
  
"Finite Incantatem" A shrill voice echoed from the doorway. I gulped down a lungful of air and turned to the voice. The tall, ominous, figure lowered his wand. I realized with a jolt that it was Voldemort…  
  
His long robes trailed behind him as he stepped into the room. The snakes on the ceiling moved quickly, slithering in excitement. I felt all the blood in my body drain to my feet as he spoke.  
  
"Crabbe, leave us."  
  
"Master… I am honored that you acted so quickly to arrive—"  
  
"Silence!" Voldemort glared at Crabbe. "Leave us. Go revive Goyle and wait for me."  
  
Crabbe stood still for a moment, and then looked at me, then back at Voldemort. "Yes, master." He headed for the door, but stopped abruptly. The pale, pointed face of Lucius Malfoy appeared behind Voldemort.  
  
"What? Why is Malfoy--?"  
  
"I suggest you leave before I get angry, Crabbe." Voldemort drawled. "You almost destroyed 2 years of work with your little 'scheme'."  
  
Crabbe stood dumbfounded. "But sir, I thought—"  
  
"Exactly! You thought! A mistake I will never let happen again!" Voldemort raised his wand. "Now go." Crabbe backed away from Voldemort's wand.  
  
"You heard him, Crabbe." Malfoy smirked and stepped out of the doorway and into the room to let Crabbe through. Crabbe didn't move.  
  
"Master, I caught Harry Potter for you!" I almost rolled my eyes at the obviousness of his statement. "I've caught him so now you can kill him!"  
  
"You fool!" Voldemort advanced on Crabbe with his wand still aimed. Crabbe backed away until he hit a wall. Voldemort stood inches from Crabbe. "Do you have any idea what you have done? You killed a member of the Order of the Phoenix!"  
  
Crabbe's eyes grew wide. "She was a…? But I…" He began to shake his head quickly. "N-no, sir" he stuttered wildly, "I didn't… I—"  
  
"Don't lie to me! Malfoy saw the whole thing!" Voldemort's unearthly voice echoed. "I can't believe what you've done, Crabbe. You probably thought that you were terribly clever after finding out how to get past Dumbledore's spell. The fact is, Malfoy learned how to almost three years ago!"  
  
Crabbe gulped, and looked like he was about to cry.  
  
"Malfoy grew a brain, and decided to wait. There was more than a spell protecting Potter. Arabella Figg, of the Order of the Phoenix, was placed by Dumbledore to stop anyone who found the loophole."  
  
"And you can't just up and kill someone from the Order of the Phoenix." Malfoy stepped forward. "You're instantly the second most wanted wizard in the world after this."  
  
Voldemort nodded in agreement. "You won't have the Death Eaters protecting you, either, Crabbe."  
  
Crabbe just about fainted. "No protection! But sir, I was trying to help you! And I didn't—"  
  
"I can't waste time protecting a wizard who got himself into such a mess!" Voldemort stepped away from Crabbe and pointed at the door. "Go."  
  
With a stumble, Crabbe walked out. Voldemort shifted his gaze to me for the first time. His stare made my skin cold and clammy. I gripped the wand at my side tighter, although I could barely feel my fingers.  
  
Malfoy took a step forward and stood next to Voldemort.  
  
"Lucius, you leave too." Voldemort didn't even look away from me as he spoke.  
  
Malfoy gave a slight bow to Voldemort, and then strode out the door.  
  
"I mistakenly had an audience the last time we met, Harry Potter. I see now that the only way to get rid of you is to do so in an… ungentlemanly manner." With a flick of his hand, my wand flew from my grasp and landed at his feet.  
  
The door to the room slammed heavily and the light dimmed to a dark green.  
  
"I suppose that even though my servants make mistakes, I should make the best of each one." Voldemort swished his wand. "Crucio!"  
  
Sudden, severe, indescribable pain shot through me. It felt as though every molecule I was made of was trying to rip itself away from my body. I screamed blindly, suddenly on the floor. Long seconds later, it stopped, but even the memory of the pain was horrendous.  
  
Voldemort chuckled shrilly. Maybe it was just my ears ringing, but I thought I heard a dull thud from the other side of the door. I brought my hands up to my face, trying to make everything stop spinning.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
The pain came again, if not worse than the first time. All I did was scream. I could barely breathe, but every breath was devoted to yelling incomprehensively, as though it would help ease the endless torture.  
  
All of a sudden, I saw the room become brighter through my clenched eyelids. The agonizing pain left, and the echo of my yell was all I could hear.  
  
I opened my eyes and saw a figure in the open doorway. With a yell, the figure pointed their wand in the room and thick, heavy smoke poured from the ceiling. Voldemort and the person at the door disappeared from view. I tried to stand up, but everything still hurt too much to move.  
  
A dark shadow appeared at my side and grabbed me around the chest. I tried to fight from their grasp, but I couldn't. It seemed hopeless… there was nothing I could do to stop them. But, instead of hurting me, the shadow lifted me up, and stood me on my feet.  
  
I heard Voldemort's irritated growls across the room. I tried to run to the door, but stumbled. An arm circled around my back, and hastily led me toward the light. We stepped out of the darkness and the door slammed behind us.  
  
The arm supporting me let go, and I numbly slumped to my hands and knees. The carpet felt warm underneath my hands. My vision was blurry, but I could see two cloaked figures sitting next to me.  
  
"Hurry!" One of them said, and suddenly, the rug lifted right off of the ground. I pushed myself up to my knees and rubbed my eyes furiously. I turned to the voice, and saw the worried but smiling face of…  
  
"Mrs. Figg!?" 


	22. Chapter 22

I felt like I was going to pass out (either from exhaustion, pain, or happiness) and my old neighbor placed a comforting arm around my shoulders as the flying carpet flew through a maze of doors and dungeons. I looked to my other side, where an older wizard sat gripping the front of the rug, steering it carefully and hastily through the small corridors. I didn't remember much of anything, but I knew I didn't like the flying because it felt clumsier than a broomstick, but the wizard made it go very fast.  
  
I stole a glance at Mrs. Figg. "Mrs. Figg, how did you ever--?"  
  
She quickly put a finger to her lips, and nodded toward the pilot. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he whipped around a corner. I supposed I shouldn't distract him, so I stayed quiet.  
  
The bluish-gray walls flew past in a blurry way, as if I were in a dream. Mrs. Figg tightened her grip around me as we spiraled our way up a staircase. The cold air suddenly became moist and warm as we flew into a large room. One wall had been blasted through near the top, and it opened up to the outdoors. The carpet angled upwards and soared straight through the hole.  
  
The cloudless, periwinkle sky expanded over us as we shot out like a cork. I craned my neck backwards to see where it was that we had come from. A high, stone cliff towered over us, and I searched among the enormous boulders for the hole, but I couldn't see it anywhere. I looked down over the edge of the carpet, where large waves were crashing against the base of the cliff.  
  
As we flew higher and higher, I began to get very dizzy. We finally reached the top of the cliff and soared over the trees. The sun's first rays peeked over a distant hill, splashing everything with pink. My head grew very heavy. It was too unreal. The air became unbearably thin, and I couldn't feel my fingers or toes. I blacked out in a swirl of green haze. It was just too much to stay conscious.  
  
When I woke up, I was nestled comfortably in a bed with bright sunshine cutting through an open window.  
  
I sat up, rubbing my eyes, when a woman's voice commanded, "Lay back down, Harry."  
  
I recognized the authoritative voice at once, and obeyed it. It was Madam Pomfrey, standing at the foot of my bed. 'Am I at Hogwarts?' I thought, groping around the nightstand for my glasses. I put them on and saw that I was in Mrs. Figg's spare bedroom.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey? Why are you here?" I asked, bewildered because I'd never seen any teacher outside of Hogwarts (besides Hagrid).  
  
"I just arrived," she said, unpacking jars and bottles from a large black bag. "Dumbledore told me to come here without explanation, but now I see why…" her eyes grazed over my face.  
  
She must have first noticed the burns on my face from the bars of the cage. I timidly pointed out my broken ankle before she started anything because it hurt the worst.  
  
She pulled the sheets back, exposing the black and blue, swollen ankle. "Merlin's beard, Harry! What in the world have you been through?" I didn't say anything as Madam Pomfrey produced a wand from her robes and murmured quietly, inspecting the damage.  
  
"Well, lucky for you it's a clean break," she said and waved her wand. "[I]Facila reparos[/I]"  
  
An odd feeling penetrated my ankle. My leg bones felt like hot liquid for a few moments, until they cooled and re-hardened. The blue blotches and swelling disappeared and the pain went away.  
  
Madam Pomfrey was kept busy for a while, giving me various bitter potions to drink, and slathering a burn remedy on my face and hands.  
  
Mrs. Figg peeked into the room just as Madam Pomfrey was packing up.  
  
"Mrs. Figg!" I beckoned for her to come in. She held the door open for Madam Pomfrey, who told me to get plenty of rest before she walked out. Mrs. Figg shut the door behind her and walked to my bed.  
  
She pulled up a chair and sat down quietly.  
  
"Well?" I asked after a few moments silence.  
  
"Well what?" She smiled, pretending not to notice that I had a hundred questions that needed answering.  
  
I folded my arms across my chest and raised my eyebrows. Mrs. Figg laughed and said, "Okay, so I suppose you're wondering how I'm still alive?"  
  
"That, among other things," I chuckled. It was so nice to smile after everything that had happened.  
  
"Okay, Harry," She said. "This time, I'm going to tell you [I]everything[/I]…"  
  
Mrs. Figg got a cup of tea for her and myself before she began to tell me everything. It was so wonderfully strange to watch her bustle around like she did before. Unless you have ever experienced the feeling of knowing someone is alive after you thought they were dead, you wouldn't understand how I felt just then.  
  
As she bent down to retrieve a dropped spoon, I noticed a bright red jagged gash on her neck just below her right ear.  
  
"What's that?" I asked, staring at the spot. She lifted her hand to her neck, as if to hide it from me, but then let her hand fall and took a step closer to me so I could see it better. It looked like a fresh burn wound, only a day old maybe. It was shaped like a backwards "L".  
  
My breath caught in my throat as I realized what it was.  
  
"Is that what they did to you?" I asked.  
  
She nodded, then covered the wound with her hair.  
  
"How did you survive?"  
  
"Well, Harry, they didn't use the Avada Kedavra curse, so it wasn't deadly."  
  
"Really?!" I said. "Well, why didn't they? What curse did they use? How did you get a scar?"  
  
"Whoa," she replied, smiling, "slow down. They probably didn't kill me because they knew I was an insider of Dumbledore's and they were going to use me for information. They didn't know that I was part of the Order, though, and I was gone from the small cabin before they returned to get me. I believe that they used a different curse, !@#$, which isn't deadly, but extremely dangerous nonetheless. If I wasn't treated right away, I wouldn't have made it. It was bad enough that it resulted in a scar, much like the one you have."  
  
"I have another question," I said, "what exactly is the Order you keep talking about? I heard Voldemort talking about The Order of the Phoenix. He said you are a member, and it sounded really important."  
  
"Yes, the Order is very important and very secret. It is an organization headed by a group of influential witches and wizards. It began when Voldemort came to power, and its sole purpose was to stop him and his followers. After he lost his strength, most of the Order split up leaving a few core members to deal with any captured Death Eaters. A few years ago, though, Dumbledore began to notice that Voldemort was gaining strength again. But it wasn't until the beginning of this summer that the Order officially began again."  
  
I took a sip of my tea, and rotated my stiff ankle a little bit.  
  
"Harry, you mustn't let this information leave the room. Not very many people know about the Order, and I don't want it to become public." Mrs. Figg stared at me.  
  
"Okay," I said, "but the Death Eaters already know that you are one, or at least Voldemort does."  
  
"Yes, but Voldemort thinks I'm dead," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "And Crabbe and Goyle had a little memory modification while I was there…"  
  
I was certainly impressed. "So, that wizard who was flying the magic carpet," I said, "is he a member of the Order?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, but because of the secrecy, I can't tell you who it was."  
  
"Okay."  
  
I sighed and glanced out the window over the smooth lake, taking a gulp of my lukewarm tea…  
  
'Wait a second,' I thought, 'a lake?' I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and limped over to the window, favoring my bad ankle.  
  
"Harry what's wrong?" Mrs. Figg asked.  
  
I didn't answer as I pulled back the curtains. I gasped in surprise. The late afternoon sun was peering over the many tall towers of Hogwarts. A couple hundred yards away from Mrs. Figg's house was Hagrid's cabin.  
  
"How did… why… what's going on?!" I half-laughed, completely lost for words. Mrs. Figg smiled and looked at her watch.  
  
"I've been temporarily relocated," she replied, "I'll let Dumbledore explain the rest," and she headed for the bedroom door. I followed her, disregarding the fact that I was still in my pajamas and a robe.  
  
We walked across the grounds together, all the way up to the huge front doors.  
  
"We're a little late," Mrs. Figg said, "but it doesn't really matter."  
  
I could hear Dumbledore's voice coming from the Great Hall, as if he was making a speech. Mrs. Figg opened the door to the Hall and let me in first. A large crowd of witches and wizards of all ages were sitting in front of Dumbledore. All the house tables were gone, and hundreds of seats were arranged in rows in front of where Dumbledore stood behind a podium.  
  
"… And I know many witches and wizards are concerned for their safety now that You-Know-Who is back in power." Dumbledore stopped his speech for a moment and looked right at me. Then he smiled, "That is why I've decided to open up Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a safe haven for any witch or wizard who feels that they need our protection." The crowd applauded their agreement. "Hogwarts opens its doors starting today," Dumbledore continued, "anybody who wishes to apply for housing can pick up an application on their way out. If you feel that you need immediate protection, speak to a ministry member or me later today. Thank you all for coming."  
  
As everyone began to bustle about, I stood there with my mouth hanging wide open. Hogwarts was open?! That meant I could stay for the rest of the summer! For the rest of every summer!!  
  
I pushed my way to the front to where Dumbledore stood. For a long moment I just stood there, and he smiled back at me with pure joy in his eyes. He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it a little bit.  
  
"I suppose you'll want to take advantage of this offer immediately, eh Harry?"  
  
I nodded numbly, too happy to think of what to say.  
  
"Thank you, sir," I managed to whisper. He squeezed my shoulder again, as if to say that he had been wishing for me to stay at Hogwarts since I was a First Year.  
  
"Go ahead up to your old dormitory," Dumbledore said, "your belongings have already been gathered. Unfortunately, there are some things that we weren't able to collect, like your wand, so you'll have to buy a new one." He bent down and whispered, "But I don't think Fawkes would mind if you asked him for another tail-feather." With one last squeeze, he smiled and walked away to talk to more people.  
  
Totally bewildered, I sighed and watched the sea of people talking amongst one another I looked around for Mrs. Figg, but she had left me. I supposed she knew I was going to be staying at the castle.  
  
I made my way through the empty corridors and up the stairs to the dormitories. The portrait of the Fat Lady wasn't covering the entrance to the dormitories, so I could just walk right in.  
  
Once in my room, I felt so at home. The five four-posters stood exactly as they did last year. My Firebolt lay on top of my bed, along with some other belongings. I rummaged in my bedside drawer for a quill and some parchment and flopped down on my bed next to the Firebolt. I got myself ready to write a very long letter.  
  
[I]Dear Ron,  
  
You won't believe what happened this summer…[/I]  
  
  
  
[b]THE END[/b] 


End file.
